


as you have cared for me (now i shall do the same)

by Aseikh



Series: Fives Times I Did This Meme Correctly, and One Time I Absolutely F*cked it Up [1]
Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Broken Bones, Childhood Trauma, Coming Out, Dad!Halt, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Injury, Major Character Injury, Minor Horace Altman & Will Treaty, Minor Horace Altman/Will Treaty, Minor Pauline duLacy & Crowley Meratyn & Halt O'Carrick, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queerplatonic Relationships, Retirement, Snow, Trauma, Winter, halt adopts will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25453684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aseikh/pseuds/Aseikh
Summary: Five times Halt cared for Will, and one time Will cared for Halt.
Relationships: Halt O'Carrick & Will Treaty, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Fives Times I Did This Meme Correctly, and One Time I Absolutely F*cked it Up [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843615
Comments: 98
Kudos: 178





	1. old oaks and broken bones

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to VallirenWrites for helping me with the cliche title and summary!

Will knew that he was in trouble the moment the tree branch under his foot cracked. He normally didn’t climb this high, not anymore, because the tree limbs simply couldn’t hold his weight. Additionally, he’d never climbed this particular tree, mostly because Halt had told him this tree was off limits. But a dare was a dare, especially coming from Horace, so Will felt that he had no other choice but to strip his cloak, quiver, and knives, and start scaling the old oak.

Knowing he shouldn’t, Will glanced down when he was about halfway up, seeing the other wards grouped at the center of the clearing, looking up at him and waving, cheering him on. The cabin stood empty behind them, thankfully void of any gruff mentors that would have interrupted this tomfoolery before Will had even touched the tree. Alyss was the only one out of the group who didn’t seem to be happy about what was happening, looking over her shoulder towards the trail heading back to Wensley. Beside her, Jenny was waving enthusiastically up to Will, jumping as if that would make her more visible to him. George had been reading before, but when Will had gotten up, he had craned his neck and started watching, and he still was. Horace, though, Horace had a wide grin on his face, and he had both hands up in the air, waving and cheering for Will the loudest.

Ever since Will had returned from the hunt for the kalkara, Horace had been treating him with immense kindness and Will found that the other boy was actually a great friend, once he got to know him better. Sure it was a little weird, but the rest of the group seemed so much more at ease now that the two of them weren’t at the other’s throat constantly. And with Halt out with Lady Pauline, Alyss had collected the other wards and brought them out to catch up with Will, who hadn’t been around much at all with the training Halt was putting him through.

And that was how Will had ended up partway up a 50 foot tall oak tree.

He was getting fairly close to the top when the branch cracked.

Mind flying, Will lunged to the side, hoping to grab onto a branch that was closer to him. If he could grab onto it, he would be able to pull himself up onto. But of course he wasn’t that lucky, not after using all his luck in surviving the kalkara and saving Halt and Rodney and the Baron.

His hand barely missed the branch, his fingernails scraping along the bark.

“Will!” he heard screams from his friends beneath him, but if he were being honest, he wasn’t really paying attention to them. He felt his back hit a lower branch, flipping him over it. He tried grabbing another branch on his way down, but they were all just barely out of his reach. He felt his shoulder slam into another branch, another hit his leg, and he was flipping over again. He just got his feet underneath him, started to reach for another branch, and then—

In the moment he hit the ground, he felt two things: something crack and his head knocking against the hard forest floor.

He was only out for a few seconds, his vision going from black to blurry gray to just being able to make out the shaking brown branches above his head. A few smaller ones fell down around him, scattering on the bare ground. His ears were ringing, making him think that he hit his head pretty hard in the fall, but he could still make out the yelling of his friends crowding around him. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be hurting too much anywhere besides his head. Maybe he was unlucky enough to have broken the branch and not caught another on his way down, but at least he hadn’t been majorly injured. The branches seemed to have slowed down his fall enough to not kill him either.

Will stayed on his back, groaning and staring up into the tree.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he could hear Jenny saying, although he couldn’t see where she was.

“Is he—” George didn’t finish his question.

“I think he broke something!” Horace was saying, his voice close but Will couldn’t see where he was either. Something touched his ankle, which he only now just noticed was throbbing with pain but also suspiciously numb.

Whatever it was touched his leg again, further up, and this time Will cried out as pain flared again. So much for not being injured. Halt was going to kill him.

“Don’t you know first aid?” Alyss asked, her voice higher pitched with worry and fear that it was almost unrecognizable. Her hand was on his shoulder, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. His vision was slowly clearing, but his head was hurting enough that he didn’t want to move it too much. Instead he kept his eyes locked on Alyss who was leaning over him. “You’re a battleschool apprentice, Horace, don’t they teach you anything more then how to swing those stupid swords?”

“I only know basic! They don’t teach us first aid until third year!” Horace shot back, equally as panicked as Alyss was. “Someone run to Wensley, we need—”

“What have all of you gotten into now?” a gruff voice suddenly said. Will didn’t need to even see who it was—Halt was home.

“Halt!” Alyss said on his right, obviously relieved to see an adult and not really caring which adult. For a moment, she went out of his view, leaving him staring up at the tree. “Will fell out of the tree, we—Horace thinks he broke something.”

Light footsteps stopped at his head and Will blinked his eyes as the slowly brightening light was suddenly covered up. His eyes adjusted, finally, and a familiar scowling face looked down at him. Halt’s messy black hair and beard were trimmed, which was odd, because he hadn’t left like that, but at this point Will didn’t really care.

“What in the blazes was he doing up that tree?” Halt asked, his face completely unreadable. And while Will didn’t know Halt that well yet, he couldn’t help but notice the trace of a Hibernian accent coming out, a sign that he was stressed. He’d spoken with a thicker accent when they’d made camp after the kalkara attack, obviously hurting and not trying to hide the accent for whatever reason. He was simply looking at Will, eyes going over Will’s head and face, not meeting Will’s gaze, before traveling down his body and stopping abruptly at a spot.

“… I dared him to see how high he could get,” Horace said, his voice low. Halt’s eyes flicked over to the left of Will, looking at something Will couldn’t see. Probably Horace, who sounded pretty ashamed of himself and fairly upset about what happened. He could almost picture Horace in this situation, sitting at his side and looking down in his lap, refusing to meet Halt’s eyes. It made Will want to laugh, if the pain wasn’t finally catching up to him.

Halt didn’t respond to that though. He simply sighed and made a shooing motion with his hand in Horace’s direction.

“Horace, you know where we keep our first aid kits. Go fetch one.” There was some shuffling of boots and running steps, first on dirt and then hollow on the porch. Will could hear the door open.

With that, Halt finally looked down at his apprentice, meeting his eyes and shaking his head. “I thought I told you not to climb this oak tree,” Halt said, “It’s old and dying and the branches aren’t strong enough to hold you anymore.”

Will met Halt’s gaze easily, forcing himself to grit through the pain. When he didn’t respond right away, though, Halt frowned. “You can hear me, right, boy?”

Instinctively, he went to nod, but stopped at a flare of pain. He definitely had one hell of a concussion. “Y-eah,” he croaked. Someone took his hand, their hand soft and delicate compared to his calloused one. It was Alyss, he realized, seeing her look down at him

“Is he going to be alright?” Jenny finally asked, stepped forward from where she and George had stood gawking. “We didn’t think—”

“No, none of you thought this through, did you?” Halt broke in, his voice tight and with a stronger accent to it. He seemed to catch himself though, his last word bitten off at the end like he regretted saying them. He looked up at Jenny, his voice and gaze softening when he realized he’d made the young girl flinch. “…he’ll be fine,” Halt said, his voice gentler. “His ankle’s broke, but he’s young and will heal fast.”

It was then that Horace finally made his way out, two packs in his hands. He’d pulled both kits out of Will’s saddle and Halt’s saddle, not knowing what Halt needed to help Will. Halt started directing the other wards—he told Jenny to kneel at Will’s head and to lift his head up to put it in her lap. Alyss stayed at Will’s side, holding his hand. George was given one of the kits, and was told what to find and who to hand it to, Halt or Horace. Since Horace had some experience with binding simple wounds, Halt had chosen him to assist with setting Will’s ankle.

It didn’t take long, but Will wasn’t really keeping track. He was too focused on not crying out too loud when Halt set the bone, something snapping into place that reverberated through Will’s body. Jenny’s hands went through Will’s hair soothingly as if to calm him, and Alyss squeezed his hand back just as hard as he squeezed her. All through this, though, he could hear Halt’s voice, murmuring something in Hibernian softly. He didn’t know what his mentor was saying, but every once and a while, he could hear his name. Oddly, Will thought that the sound of Halt’s voice was fairly comforting.

When Halt was finished, he looked around. It was getting dark. “All of you should get back to the castle,” he started, figuring he and Horace could help Will back into the cabin and the others could head off. But the moment he said it, all of their faces told him that none of them wanted to leave. Alyss’ eyes were wide, and she was still holding Will’s hand tightly. Jenny had been crying, her fingers still massaging Will’s scalp. George was holding onto one of the first aid kits as if he would die without it, and he was almost on top of Horace as if he didn’t want to leave. And Horace was just staring blankly at Will, who was going in and out of consciousness at this point.

Horace was probably blaming himself for this.

Halt sighed, considering his options. Will wouldn’t be able to do any physical training for a while, and since he most definitely had a concussion, he would have to take a break from the rest of his training for a while as well. Additionally, it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to fall asleep right away, especially not right now.

And what better way to keep him awake then with his friends being around him.

“Okay,” Halt said, hoping he wouldn’t regret this. “You all can stay the night. He can’t go to sleep right away, not with his concussion, so as long as you agree to make sure he stays awake …” he paused looking between all of them. Absently, he nudged his apprentice, and Will opened his eyes, looking around him blearily.

All the wards were nodding their heads, no words having passed between them.

Halt sighed again.

Once again directing them, he and Horace got Will to a partial standing position, keeping his broken ankle up off the ground. He tried hopping on one foot for a moment, but his other leg quickly gave out from just the pain and exhaustion written on his face. He was holding onto both of his supporters tightly, his head lolling for a moment. Will closed his eyes for a brief moment, but then opened them. They went to take a step, but then Halt’s barely-healed leg started to give, and Alyss stepped forward.

They helped him into the cabin, Halt clearing the way, and the other two wards trailing behind them. When they entered the cabin, Halt hesitated for a moment, before nodding Horace towards the couch. They laid him down there, Jenny and George filing in and standing awkwardly in the corner. “There are extra blankets in that chest there,” Halt motioned towards a chest along the wall. “You can get pillows and some more blankets out of Will’s room.” Halt paused for a moment, looking at all of them. “I’m going to ride to the castle quick, let your masters know that you’ll be here for the night.”

“Wait, what?” Will said, groggily sitting up to look around him. “I don’t want them to get in trouble because of me, Halt, really, it was my choice—”

“They’re not getting in trouble,” Halt said, putting a hand on Will’s shoulder. He quickly took it away though, seeing the bruise forming at Will’s collar bone and realizing that he was probably in a lot of pain all over his body. If he fell from near the top of the tree and survived the fall, he was going to be bruised up quite a lot. He would have to check for other breaks when he got back, Halt decided. “They just want to stay with you. I’m sure the other craftmasters will be fine with them staying here if it comes from me.”

Halt didn’t need to say what he meant by that. It was obvious what he meant by that—the other craftmasters didn’t feel comfortable questioning Halt, and the one that did, Lady Pauline, would be fine with it anyways.

Before he left, Halt helped set up a fire in the sitting area, while Horace gathered the bedding from Will’s room and Jenny starting pulling out the extra blankets from the chest. He scanned what they were doing for a moment, content to see Will, his eyes slightly brighter, sitting upright along the couch. His ankle was propped up with one rolled up blanket, his back with a few of his pillows from his bed. Another blanket was thrown over him, and Alyss was sitting just in front of the couch where he was at, talking with him.

When he turned, he realized one of the wards was standing awkwardly in the kitchenette, going from staring at him to the floor to the small group at the fire.

“George,” Halt said, pulling the kids name out of thin air. He couldn’t recall how he knew it. “What’s wrong?”

“…is there anything to drink?” he said awkwardly, “Some water? Will—”

Halt nodded, not smiling but now frowning either. It was weird enough having Will around at first, but now there were four more of him. “There’s a jug right there, Will can tell you where the river is if it’s empty. For food, we don’t have much right now, but there’s half a loaf of bread in that cabinet there.” He pointed at the jug and the cabinet. It was weird—Halt could tell that the boy, the scribe apprentice if he remembered correctly, was intimidated by him, but at the same time George had watched him mother over Will.

George nodded, mumbling a thank you, before looking into the jug and finding a bit of water left. Halt showed him where the cups were and he poured the rest of the water out and brought it over to the couch, where Horace was making himself Will’s pillow by sitting at the edge of the couch and wrapping his arms around Will. George handed over the water to Will, while Jenny made her way into the kitchenette for the bread.

They’ll be fine without you for a bit, Halt told himself, opening the front door. It’s not like Will broke his neck.

He cast one last glance over the small group. Will was finally settled, having hit Horace with a pillow that he tried moving to get the spot next to him on the couch. Alyss had claimed the chair and a blanket, and Jenny and George had covered the rest of the floor with the extra pillows and blankets, making sure to keep it a good distance from the now raging fire. Halt could vaguely hear Horace saying something about how this was his fault.

Will simply hit him with another pillow, snorting and shaking his head.

Halt returned maybe an hour later, slipping into the cabin quietly. He had told them to keep Will awake, but in an expected turn of events, Halt found that his apprentice was the only one left conscious. He was laying half on Horace, his broken ankle still propped up on the rolled blanket. He had ended up with another blanket piled on him, so the two boys on the couch simply looked like one big lump. Alyss was snoring quietly on the chair, while George and Jenny were sprawled across the floor, both dead asleep.

Will looked up at the door opening, his instincts still finely tuned despite the knock to the head he’d taken.

He and Halt met eyes in the flickering dark, but neither said anything until the door was closed and Halt was slightly closer.

“Halt,” Will said, his voice low to avoid waking up any of his friends. “I’m—”

“Don’t apologize,” Halt stopped him, using a hand to turn Will’s jaw and look at the back of his head. There was no blood, thankfully, unless they had cleaned it up while he had been gone. “It was stupid and reckless and against my word, but it could’ve been worse. Better you fall out a tree and break something rather then ignore me in the field and get yourself killed.”

Will looked away at that, his cheeks coloring. Then, he simply said “Yeah.”

“How are you feeling?” Halt said, still looking at his apprentice.

“Stupid,” Will responded, bringing a hand up to rest at the back of his head. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “Thanks, Halt,” he said, looking at the fire.

“You’re my apprentice, Will,” Halt responded, shaking his head. “You don’t have to thank me. Just don’t do it again.”

Without thinking, Halt rested a hand gently on top of Will’s head, mussing up the already tangled and messy mop of hair. There were some leaves left in it, and Halt carefully picked them out, making sure not to tug on his hair. Will said nothing to him about it, though, just leaned slightly into the touch and closed his eyes. It wasn’t until Halt whispered goodnight to Will and slipped into his bedroom that he realized what he had done.

He glanced briefly down at his hand. He used to do that with Caitlyn, he realized, when she was young and their mother had tasked him with spending time with her. He would often take the time to brush out her hair and braid it, often pulling twigs and leaves from it as he worked. She used to get up to all kinds of trouble, he recalled, thinking of the time he had found her up a tree and holding a baby squirrel.

Halt closed his eyes and shook his head. For the past few years, he’d known he would have Will as an apprentice, especially after watching him for so long to repay Daniel. When Will first showed potential to be an apprentice Ranger, Halt had made up his mind then and there. But now that the boy was here, Halt found that it was less about repaying Daniel, and more about Will specifically. He was a good boy—brave, smart, and caring, but also surprisingly sarcastic and funny. He was so much like Daniel, in the short time that Halt knew him, but also was uniquely himself.

At this point, Halt thought, he would probably do anything for Will.


	2. past pains and future families

“You’re sure this is okay?” Will asked again, probably for the tenth time that day. He swung his cloak over his shoulders, already inching towards the door, but his eyes were still hooked onto Halt.

Halt, for his part, wanted Will out of the cabin, if only for a few hours. It had only been four months since returning from Skandia, and Will had been throwing himself back into his training, seemingly desperate to get back to where he was before. Halt was happy to encourage Will in his training, but he also wanted the boy to take care of himself. He was still healing to some degree, after all. So when Will asked if he could have the afternoon off to have dinner with his wardmates, Halt had agreed—especially since Horace was visiting, his first time back to Redmont since getting assigned to Araluen. Halt would probably see Horace later, knowing the boys, but it would be good for Will to get out and take a simple break.

“Will,” Halt said, putting the letter from Crowley down on the table, “why would I tell you that you could go if it wasn’t okay?”

Will bit his lip, the door already open and his hand on the jam. He was halfway out the door, yet he still hesitated. His other hand fiddled with the clasp of his cloak. “Well, it’s just that … if you’d rather I stay and practice—”

Halt stood up, frowning at his apprentice. “Will, go. I’m serious. This is Horace’s first time back in a while, and you need a break. Go.”

The apprentice still seemed to hesitate, but one more look from Halt, an eyebrow raised, and Will seemed to finally get the message. He nodded, finally looking away and out the door. “I—I’ll be back before nightfall, is that okay?” he said, now three-quarters out of the door.

Halt didn’t even say anything, he just stared at Will, lips pursed. And then “Go.”

That seemed to do the trick. Will smiled crookedly, one of the few that Halt had seen since Will had moved back into the cabin, and it was good to see. The door closed behind Will and Halt finally sat back down. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. Will would be going off with his friends, something he hadn’t done in a long time. It would be good for him.

It will be good for him.

Halt settled back into his chair, content to eat a basic dinner by himself while he went over a few things from Crowley. He would probably still be in the same position when Will got back, knowing Crowley’s tendency to ramble and include unnecessary tidbits in notes to him just for the hell of it. He was tempted to get a cup of coffee, as, even though he hadn’t said it, he was definitely going to wait for Will to get back before heading to bed. He figured it wouldn’t be long.

Obviously, it was Will, and Will would keep his word about being back before nightfall.

Obviously.

* * *

It was two hours past nightfall and Will still wasn’t home.

Halt was on his third cup of coffee in the past hour, and despite all of his training, all of his years of experience, he couldn’t stop the tap-tap-tap of his foot on the wooden floor as he stared directly at the closed front door.

Tap. He technically hadn’t told Will when to be back, he told himself. Tap-tap. He was a teenager, seeing all of his friends together for the first time in a long time. It was expected for them to lose track of time and run late.

Tap.

Will wasn’t one to go back on his own word, though, especially with Halt. Especially after … after Skandia.

It had taken Halt a long time to get Will comfortable with being back, comfortable with Halt’s presence all over again. It had taken them long enough to bring Will even close to being back to where he was before everything went down. But that didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts in Halt’s mind, telling him that it wouldn’t be that easy for the young boy to forget Skandia. It was still there, in the back of their minds. He knew it was still affecting Will, and that it would continue to affect him—his apprentice, once slender and wiry in a healthy, Ranger-like way, was now simply just thin and bony, and not in a healthy way. Halt would sometimes wake to Will screaming in the night, or would find Will staring blankly into the forest when he was supposed to have been training.

Skandia would never leave Will alone, Halt had come to realize, so all he could do was be there to support him when he needed it.

Halt considered his options. He could sit here and wait for Will, as he had been doing for the past few hours. It was probably the smart thing to do—rushing into the castle looking for Will when he was probably sitting with Horace and the others and enjoying his time … it would ruin the image he’d taken so long to craft and only embarrass Will.

Tap-tap-tap.

But at the same time, he already ruined that image. He’d gone and got himself banished to go after Will, and if that didn’t ruin the stoic, uncaring, and grumpy image he’d painstakingly crafted over the years, he didn’t know what would. Tap. And it wasn’t like he would go bursting into the rooms Horace was staying in. The battleschool had no spare rooms for him, so Arald had given him an empty apartment for the short time he would be there. Tap-tap. Halt would be able to confirm easily if they were all still with him, simply by passing by. Tap. And if for some reason he needed to come up with an excuse why he was at the castle, he could always say he had been visiting Pauline while Will was out. Tap-tap-tap. They were good friends, and it was believable. Tap.

That made up his mind.

Halt stood from his spot, his coffee abandoned where he left it. He didn’t even bother to blow out the candle that he had lit on the table, instead just throwing his cloak over his shoulders and heading out the door. He left his bow behind as well, instead figuring that his knives would be enough if anything were to happen.

The clearing was black when he walked out of the lightly lit cabin, immediately seeing that it was slightly later then he had originally thought. Now that he was outside, Halt saw another piece of the puzzle: there was white dusted on the ground. Snow.

The first snowfall of the year.

The first snow Will would have experienced since his time in Skandia.

That just lit the fire under his feet. He quickly went around the cabin to the lean-to, surprising the two horses that were still there. Will had decided to walk, leaving Tug behind to rest. Halt had no such qualms about taking Abelard, using the wall of the lean-to to help him up in lieu of saddling the horse and using the stirrups. He put the bit in, though, not wanting to pull the horse’s hair. “Come on, boy,” he said, urging Abelard out of the lean-to. He left Tug behind—whatever he found, he knew that they would be around the castle. They wouldn’t need the horse.

He didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to alert people to his fear, so instead of galloping out of the forest and up the hill to Redmont, he let Abelard pick his way along the track and around Wensley. Abelard seemed to sense Halt’s stress, though, and despite Halt’s lack of direction, the horse picked up speed and strode towards the town and castle.

On his way there, Halt kept his eyes peeled, knowing that he would recognize Will’s form instinctively. He saw nothing on his way through Wensley and across the river, now finally nudging Abelard to pick up the pace. The gates were still open despite the lateness, with two guards standing outside it with thick scarves padding the space between their skin and chainmail.

Second guessing himself, Halt pulled to a stop next to the two guards. “Did my apprentice come up this way?” he asked gruffly, forcing his voice to sound angrier then what it really was.

The two guards glanced at each other, but then the one of the right shook his head. “No, Ranger, we haven’t seen him. However, we’ve only been on watch for about two hours, so if he came earlier, he wouldn’t have passed us.”

Halt nodded his head. That was what he’d assumed, but he had to check. “Thanks,” he said anyways, urging Abelard into the courtyard.

Out of nowhere, a dark shadow darted at Abelard’s side, startling Halt into pulling back the reins roughly. “What the—” Abelard shook his head and took a few steps back, looking around at Halt like he was losing it. The horse’s eyes rolled and he snorted, shaking his head again before turning to look at the shadow that had come to a stop next to the castle wall.

Letting out a short sigh, Halt shook his head. He’d been so absorbed in finding Will, in worrying about where he was, that he hadn’t even seen someone walking towards the gate. Now, the person was brushing snow off their shoulders, which had fallen there when the walker had startled Halt and Abelard kicked up snow.

“Jeez, Halt, I thought you’d heard me,” the person said, pulling the hood of their dark cloak from their head. “Or at least seen me.”

Horace’s cheeks were pink from the cold, and the cloak around his shoulders looked like a thin summer one that he had gotten from Araluen. Obviously he hadn’t planned around the possibility of the first snowfall coming early.

Halt frowned. “Horace. What are you doing out here?” He resisted the urge to demand his apprentice’s location from the young battleschool app—knight. Instead, Halt looked down at the boy, his frown deepening as he studied him. Horace looked rattled, his hair was messed up, and his blue eyes were noticably puffy even in the dark.

Dusting the rest of the snow off his shoulder, Horace looked up at him. “I—I was coming to find you, actually.”

“Why?” Halt said immediately. He gripped Abelard’s reins hard, his knuckles turning white.

Horace looked around them, an odd look on his face. “Will never showed up for dinner,” he finally said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “The others assumed that he had gotten caught up in practicing again. They said that it happened a lot now, that he’d forget about things he agreed to and not show up.” Horace ran a hand through his hair, damp from the snow that had fallen in it. It hadn’t been snowing when Halt left the cabin—it must’ve just started up again and he hadn’t even noticed.

“He never showed up?” Halt repeated, alarm rising. That wasn’t good.

Instead of saying anything, Horace simply nodded. Then, he seemed to think of something else. “The others seemed fine with it, but I just—” he cut himself off, his mouth in a thin line and his eyes staring off into the distance. He swallowed hard, and for a moment there was a hint of something glistening at the corners of his eyes. Horace swiped them away quickly though. “I just kept thinking about what we saw in Skandia, Halt,” Horace said, staring at the snow-dusted ground and his slushy boots. “And I know I haven’t been around to see how he’s been, but if something were to happen to him, Halt—”

“He left the cabin around four hours ago,” Halt finally said. He swung his leg around Abelard’s side, sliding down from the horse and landing just in front of Horace. “He was excited to see you,” Halt added, placing a hand on Abelard’s side. Feeling the rise and fall of his horse’s chest was probably the most comfort he’d get before they found Will. “He told me he’d be back before nightfall.”

Horace remained silent, letting the information soak in. His eyes were wide as he considered Halt and what he had said. And then, he simply said “Oh my god,” his voice cracking.

Halt pursed his lips, trying to push down his own panic so he didn’t increase Horace’s. But it was still serious—Will was missing.

Making up his mind, Halt grabbed Abelard’s reins, throwing them up and over the horse’s neck. He would stay in place until Halt needed him, and he was mostly out of the way, even if he was right near the entrance of the gate. “Have you looked around the castle grounds?” he asked, grabbing Horace’s elbow and tugging him in the direction of the main keep. Horace was starting to shiver, completely unprepared for the weather.

He shook his head. “We finished dinner around two hours ago, but Alyss stayed around to catch up with me for a bit. She only just left … I think she could tell that I was worried.”

Halt nodded, biting his bottom lip as he thought. Someone needed to look around the castle for Will, but Horace simply wasn’t dressed for the weather. His lips were pale, his nose a brighter red then before, and he had shoved his ungloved hands into his armpits about halfway through their conversation. Having ridden to Redmont the same way Will would have come, Halt assumed that Will had to be somewhere on the castle grounds. He had to be close.

Tugging the door to the keep open, Halt shoved Horace inside. Immediately, the snow melted off the both of them, the torches on either side of the doorway feeling hot in the enclosed area. Halt stepped inside with Horace, figuring he would get a few moments of respite before going back outside.

“Check around the rest of the castle and keep,” Halt said, shaking out his own cloak. “I’ll look around the grounds to see if he got caught outside.”

Horace nodded and didn’t even wait for another word from the older Ranger. The moment Halt stopped talking, he was going up the steps, leaving Halt behind in the puddle of melting snow at the doorway.

Before going back outside, Halt paused for a moment, thinking through everything he knew. Will had walked from the cabin to the castle, prepared to meet Horace, Alyss, George, and Jenny for dinner. He had been excited, especially to see Horace, who he hadn’t seen since they left him behind at Castle Araluen.

Which was why it was so odd that Will never showed.

He thought for a few more moments. Halt hadn’t seen Will on the way up and Horace claimed that he hadn’t seen him once. But he had to be somewhere. Halt cracked the door to the keep open, glancing out and seeing that the snow was now picking up, collecting in places on the ground and dusting the clothing of anyone who had the misfortune to pass through.

And that’s when it clicked.

The snow had just started, true, but there had been some earlier, which was obvious from the thin sheet he’d noticed over the grass when he first left the cabin. If the snow had started, say, sometime when Will was walking up to the castle, he would have gone for cover. Halt had noticed that when things brushed against Will now, he was quick to brush it off, even if it wasn’t snow. If the flurries had started while he was out in the open, he would have searched for a place to stay, wait it out, and then continue on his trek.

But he hadn’t continued.

What would have made Will abandon his destination?

Halt tapped the door frame, the jitters he’d gotten from the coffee and too much stress coming back to haunt him.

Tap-tap-tap.

Will didn’t like things tickling his skin and was quick to brush it off. He didn’t like the feeling of snow on him, and would take the time to get out of the weather if it was going to go on for a bit. Tap-tap.

But what would happen if he couldn’t get out of it fast enough?

The distance between Wensley and Redmont wasn’t far, but it was enough if, perhaps, halfway up the hill, it had started snowing. It would have been too far for Will to have gotten cover anywhere else, forcing him to stay in the weather. He would maybe make it to the gates of the castle, but if he had, Halt believed that he would have known about it. If Will had made it to the castle, he would have eventually made his way to Horace’s rooms, as he didn’t have anywhere else to go in the castle.

Meaning, Will hadn’t made it to the gates.

Halt darted out of the keep, letting the door slam shut behind him despite the late hour. He left Abelard where he was, instead going out the gate and looking down the path Halt had traveled along. There were a few different paths heading from the front gates of Redmont, but the main one was from Wensley to Redmont. Other paths branched off of it, one going to the battleschool and horse school and another heading in the direction of the main road.

There were no forms on the ground that were obvious to Halt, so he turned his gaze to the wall. Maybe the snow had been heavier then he’d thought—some of it could have melted. If it had come down heavier and Will couldn’t get out fast enough, he might have panicked and gotten turned around.

Following his flimsy hunch, Halt headed down the path that was supposed to head to the battleschool. It went along the side of the castle, following the walls until it went off on its own.

Watching the ground like a hawk, Halt studied the area at the base of the wall. He went along the path as best as he could—a path that was almost completely obscured in the growing snowfall.

The grizzled Ranger was just getting to the end of the front wall, where the wall bent into the next side of the castle, when he saw it.

A small form, huddled against the wall and curled in on itself.

The Ranger cloak was unmistakable against the stark white snow around him.

“Will,” Halt whispered, rushing forward. Not thinking, he immediately grabbed onto Will, needing to see if his apprentice was okay. His hand grabbed the boy’s shoulder, moving to turn him over as Halt leaned over him.

He expected Will to be half-conscious, barely alert. Confused, maybe.

What he didn’t expect was for Will to immediately lash out at him, ripping his shoulder out of Halt’s grasp and his leg flailing out and slamming into Halt’s upper thigh with a hard thump. Halt cursed and was thrown back, just as Will threw himself backwards out of Halt’s reach, the words on his lips tearing Halt’s heart to pieces.

“NO, I wasn’t slacking—I wasn’t—I’m sorry, don’t hurt me—”

“Will!” Halt broke in, throwing his hands up. “Will, it’s me.” Halt tried to come forward again, but Will didn’t even give him the chance. Immediately, he started scrambling backwards, his back against the wall and his face covered with the folds and tangles of his hood and cloak. His flailing scattered the thin blanket of snow around them, revealing mud and clumps of grass underneath him.

“Will!” Halt tried again, freezing in his spot. “Will, please, it’s me.” He tried to sooth his voice, to make it less hard, more comforting, yet still familiar. “It’s me,” he breathed, “it’s Halt.”

He sat in his spot, hands up, watching Will’s chest rise and fall quickly, seeing that the boy was panicking. He hadn’t had an episode like this in a while, Halt thought, not in a long time. Not since they were just getting back to Redmont. Seeing Will’s wild eyes, eyes that weren’t … weren’t here, Halt thought through his next lines.

Will was back in Skandia.

“It’s me, Will, it’s Halt,” he said softly, “You’re not in Skandia. You haven’t been in Skandia for months. We’re in Redmont, you were going to see Horace.” Seeing Will pause, Halt kept talking. “You’re my apprentice, Will, and we’re back in Redmont and Araluen with your friends. You’re a Ranger, not—not a slave. You’re not there anymore, and you never will be again, not if I can help it.”

Silence fell.

Halt stayed there, mere feet from Will, dying to reach out to his boy and wrap him in a tight hug. But he also knew that doing that would only make it worse. Will needed to come back to him on his own, and forcing it would only make it worse.

From his spot, he watched as Will’s body slowly relaxed, his hands, red and wet from being out in the snow for so long, curling in on themselves.

As Will relaxed, Halt was able to get a better look at his apprentice. His dark hair, messy as usual, was damp, with specks of snow in it that were clumped together and melting down his neck. His nose and cheeks were red and his lips were pale as well. His cheeks, once dimpled and smiling, were hollow, marking the abuse he had gone through in the slaveyards. And that wasn’t even counting the lash marks.

The worse part, Halt noticed, was that Will clothes were soaked. He’d been laying in the snow long enough for the first fall to melt underneath and on him, and now that this second, heavier fall was coming down, it was finally soaking into his cloak and getting past the waterproof oiling.

“Halt?” the voice was quiet—broken, shaking, so unlike nearly every memory Halt had of him.

“I’m here, Will,” he said, reaching out with one hand slowly. It felt like he was treating Will like some wild animal. But at the same time, he didn’t want to scare Will any more then he already was. He could see his apprentice trembling in the loose clothing … he hadn’t fit well into his old clothing when he got back, having lost so much weight. He hadn’t let Halt tailor them, though, instead insisting that it would be fine and that he’d fit into them again soon enough.

Will just stared at the hand, as if he didn’t understand the function if it wasn’t meant to harm him.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Will,” Halt said, leaning forward slightly. With his other hand, he started to unclasp his own cloak. It would do no good if Halt didn’t get Will’s own cloak off, but it would be much better if he could get Will into something warmer. “I just want to help you.”

Another heartbeat passed in silence, before Will slowly blinked and his eyes flicked around them, as if he didn’t know where they were. It took a moment, but his eyes went from distant and blurry to what they should be—sharp and attentive, if a little shaky.

“H-Halt, I’m—” Will started to apologize, his eyebrows furrowing as he slowly started to realize what had happened. He didn’t look so panicked anymore, but his behavior told Halt that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He brought up his hands to either side of his head, grasping at his hair as if he couldn’t believe that he had done this. As if he had any control over it.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Will,” Halt murmured, moving forward a few more inches, finally within touching distance of Will.

Halt didn’t make the first move, though. Will did. The young apprentice fell forward, falling into Halt’s arms as if he couldn’t support himself any longer, the pain and panic finally releasing him from it’s hold. Halt brought his arms around Will, holding him tightly to his chest, not wanting to let go. He could feel Will shaking in his arms, could feel the coldness of his skin through his shirt and cloak. In the silence of the falling snow, Halt could hear and feel Will sobbing into Halt’s chest. The sobs wracked his body, jerking Halt’s hold on him.

But he didn’t let go. He would never let go.

For a few minutes, they sat there: Halt holding desperately onto Will, tucking the boy into his chest to provide him with as much comfort and warmth as possible in the slowly dropping temperatures. But still, Will was shaking hard, and not just from crying.

Halt needed to get him out of this weather.

“Here,” Halt said gently, pulling his cloak from his shoulders. He would be cold, but he wouldn’t be as cold as Will was right now. Will let him move, pausing to let Halt unclasp his cloak and pull his own cloak around Will’s shoulders. Immediately, Will pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders, leaning heavily into Halt once again.

“We need to get you inside,” Halt murmured, putting his arms around Will again. He rested his chin on top of Will’s head, holding him tight. The apprentice was so small in his arms, completely different from the first time Halt had hugged him, pulling him from the ground after the horrendous boar hunt episode. He was so cold.

“Come on,” Halt said, forcing himself to release Will. He kept his arms loosely around his apprentice, helping him stand in the gentlest way possible. Will stumbled slightly, but he stood, remaining close in Halt’s space.

Absently, Halt picked up Will’s discarded cloak. He and Will turned, heading towards the front gates of Redmont. Halt kept a tense arm around Will, keeping him close. Knowing that constant staring would only stress him out more, Halt kept his head facing forward, but watched him out of the corner of his eye as they both picked their way through the snow.

When they made it past the gates, neither guard saying anything, Will seemed to pause.

“Are we not heading back to the cabin?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“It’s too cold for that,” Halt said, shaking his head. “At least for you. It’d be better to get you out of the cold as soon as possible.”

As they were speaking, Halt continued leading Will towards the main keep, an idea already blooming in his mind. It would probably be for the best, he was thinking, if Will could stay with someone for the night who could comfort him. Someone of his own age, who knew what he had gone through.

“Horace was looking for you,” Halt started, opening the door to the keep and pulling Will inside. Once again, the snow on the two of them started melting immediately being right next to the torches. Halt ran a hand through his hair, brushing out the melting flakes. “He was worried. I’m sure he’d be okay with it if you stayed with him tonight—”

“No!” Will froze in place, pulling his shoulders out of Halt’s grasp. “I—I don’t want Horace to—I don’t want to see Horace,” Will choked out, shaking his head adamantly. The panic was suddenly back in his eyes, damp hair sticking to his forehead as he frantically shook his head over and over again. He took a step back, bumping into the keep door as if he were going to escape out of it.

Halt didn’t understand though. “You don’t want to—to see Horace?” he asked, incredulous. Why would Will not want to see Horace? They were best friends, Horace knew what Will had gone through, would understand—

“I just—I just don’t,” Will forced out, pressing his back into the door. He didn’t move to exit, though, holding Halt’s cloak around his shoulder’s tightly. He wouldn’t meet Halt’s eyes.

Thinking quickly, Halt considered his options. They couldn’t go back to the cabin—it was too far, too cold for Will. He needed to get out of the cold, and bringing him back outside after already bringing him in would definitely not be good. But they didn’t have rooms in the castle, and it was too late to ask Arald to arrange for them to have a room for the night. Martin wasn’t awake and Halt didn’t have the first clue to even start to get a room himself. They would have to room with someone—but Will was refusing to room with the one person Halt had thought he’d be comfortable with. And he wasn’t going to force Will to do something he obviously didn’t want to do, not with how fragile his mind was at the moment. Where else could they go?

Then, it came to him.

“Let’s go,” Halt said simply, leading Will up the steps. Will tentatively let Halt put his arm around him again, but was moving slowly. They had to go up three stories, but they eventually got to the floor they needed.

Will looked around, his face tired and eyes cloudy from exhaustion. There was still panic and stress in his eyes Halt could see, with the way his eyes flicked around, studying the hallway and the rooms around them. “Where—” he started to ask, confusion in his voice.

“We’re not going to Horace,” Halt reassured him, leading him towards a plain hard oak door. “But we have to stay with someone, Will.”

Before Will could say anything else, Halt knocked on the door, seeing that there was still a light flickering in the crack. He hated bothering them like this, especially so late, but Halt was out of other options and was sure they would understand.

“Isn’t this …” Will trailed off, unsure. He was looking at the door, eyes clearer than before. He took a step backwards, but didn’t try to escape Halt’s arms.

“It’s okay, I promise,” Halt said softly, using his free hand to pull wet strands of hair out of Will’s eyes. “She won’t tell.”

The door opened, revealing a tall, silver and blond haired woman in a pale blue nightgown, a thickly woven shawl thrown over her shoulders and slippers on her feet. Lady Pauline still looked graceful out of her standard courier uniform and in pajamas, as if anything could take away her natural poise and confident posture.

She looked between the two Rangers standing at her door, raising an eyebrow. Halt was damp, hair sticking to his forehead, but his clothes were relatively dry besides the knees of his pants where he knelt down into the snow. There was an obvious boot print on the thigh of his pants, but that didn’t catch her attention as much as the shivering, huddled form bundled at his side. If Halt was only damp, Will was absolutely soaked. His cloak was dripping in Halt’s other arm, while Halt’s own cloak was wrapped over his shoulders. His hair was also stuck to his forehead, but the rest of his clothes were sopping wet, the snow having melted and been absorbed into the usually light and airy fabric.

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” Pauline murmured, moving out of the way without another word. She didn’t have to invite them in—Halt was always welcome, and the apprentice in his arms fell under that invite.

Halt moved around her, thanking her quietly as she closed the door behind them.

Lady Pauline’s apartments were larger then the standard apartments, thanks to her title as the head courier. They were simply furnished but comfortable, with small remnants of other personalities laying around. Will immediately recognized small knickknacks he remembered seeing Halt carve sitting on top of the fireplace, knitted blankets cushioning the couch, delicately etched hair sticks displayed among other small objects.

“Do you have any changes of clothes he can borrow?” Halt asked, pulling the cloak off Will shoulders as he shooed the boy closer to the fire.

Pauline nodded before disappearing into her bedroom, returning a few moments later with familiar green and brown clothing folded neatly in her arms. There were two sets. “You should change too,” she murmured, looking at Halt.

He mirrored her nod, but then waved his hand. “I need to go find Horace, make sure he’s not spending the rest of the night looking for him,” he put a hand gently on Will’s head, messing with his hair fondly. “And put Abelard away for the night. Mind helping him get warmed up?”

Smiling, Pauline set the change of clothes on the edge of the couch. “Of course,” she said.

“I’ll be right back,” Halt murmured to Will, before pulling his arm away from Will and leaving out the door before Will could say anything else. He watched as Halt closed the door behind him, softly clicking as he left.

That left him alone with Lady Pauline.

Will turned back to her, staring at her awkwardly and not sure how to act with her around. He didn’t know her that well, only really knew her through what Alyss and Halt had told him. The woman was intimidating, if he was being honest with himself, but, in the spirit of being honest, she reminded him a lot of Alyss. And because of that, he felt that he could trust her.

Pauline smiled at him, picking up the two pairs of clothes again and holding them out to him. “Change into whichever is closer to your size,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of her room. “You can change in there.” She gently pushed him in the direction of the room, saying something more about getting blankets for him. “There are towels you can use to dry off in that chest right there,” she said, and before he could say anything else, she closed the door on him, leaving him alone in her room by himself.

Hesitantly, he started stripping the cold and wet clothing from him, shivering as the air touched his freezing skin. Not wanting to just throw the clothes on after getting out of the wet ones, he went in search of the towels Pauline had mentioned. He pulled one out, patting himself dry.

Not wanting to look around the room too much, Will glanced at the two pairs of clothes he had thrown onto the bed. He unfold the shirts that sat on top of each respective pair. One was obviously meant for someone taller then him, but both pairs of clothing were definitely Ranger garb. They were both larger, for full-grown adults, but were different sizes, making Will question who’s they were and why Pauline had them. He glanced at the collars. Halt tended to stitch an ‘H’ in the collar—it wasn’t that noticeable, but it marked the cloths well enough. The other pair just had a circle badly stitched into the collar, broken on the right side—a ‘C’?

Dismissing it, Will grabbed the pair that was obviously Halt’s. The other pair was too tall for him, and while Halt was bigger than Will, Halt was closer in size to him compared to the other one. Hopefully Pauline had another pair, he thought absently, pulling the shirt over his head.

Throwing the towel over his head, Will started drying his hair. Dimly, he heard the front door to the apartments open, Halt’s voice barely audible through the door.

“Will?” Halt said, his voice close to the door. There was a light tap, but the door didn’t open. “You still changing?”

After hesitating a moment, Will collected his discarded clothing and opened the door. Halt stood there, a thick knitted blanket in his hands and a concerned look on his face. Will could feel his cheeks heating up, but instead of saying anything he tried to force a smile.

It was weak, but it was there.

Halt looked him up and down, recognizing the clothes that his apprentice was wearing. Instead of saying anything about them, Halt simply nodded and pulled the blanket over Will’s shoulders. He took the wet clothing out of Will’s hands, putting his arm around Will’s shoulders once again. “Let’s get you warmed up,” he said, pulling Will back into the main room.

Walking around the seats, Will saw that Pauline had pulled out more blankets, making them into a nest in front of the fire that she had stoked. Halt settled Will in the center of the pile, throwing another blanket over his apprentice, purposely throwing it over his head in a joking manner. Will snorted, pulling his face out but keeping it over his head like a hood.

Pauline handed Will a pillow, giving him a place to lay down in front of the fire. As he was getting comfortable, bundled under so many blankets, he heard some movement behind him and turned to see Halt settling into one of the chairs beside Pauline, a shared blanket over their laps.

Halt saw him watching. “Go to sleep, Will,” he said, “We can talk tomorrow.” Only now was Will realizing that Halt’s thick Hibernian accent had been out this entire time, from the moment Halt had collected him from out in the snow until now.

Those words seemed to comfort Will, Halt noticed. He turned away, laying his head down on the pillow and shifting slightly in the blankets Pauline had laid out. Halt watched him for a moment, before feeling Pauline’s hand on his arm. He shook his head, leaning back into the chair with Pauline sitting just beside him. He would never admit it, but he was glad they ended up coming here—Pauline was a comforting presence all around, for both Halt and Will, when Horace would have just been as stressed as they were.

Despite feeling the exhaustion catching up with him, Halt kept his eyes on his apprentice, watching as the boy’s breathing started to steady and slow. The fire was blazing just in front of him, and even as he watched, he could see Will’s hair start to curl as it dried.

Halt took a deep breath, satisfied that Will was going to be alright, at least for the night. He hadn’t noticed any signs of frostbite from what he could see of Will, but he was sure his apprentice would have brought it up if something felt off. He felt Pauline take his hand, and he squeezed it slightly, letting her know that he felt it and appreciated the gesture.

After a moment, Halt finally let his eyes close, leaning in towards Pauline’s comforting embrace.

* * *

Will woke some hours later to sun filtering through unfamiliar curtains, in a room he didn’t immediately recognize. He remained still for a moment, searching his memory for an explanation for where he was.

Slowly, it came back to him.

Horace. The dinner. The snow. Being trapped in the flurry and panicking. Waking up to Halt. Being led inside. Pauline.

He was in Lady Pauline’s rooms. Will looked around him, shifting in the blankets and stretching his legs out. The fire was burnt down to ashes, but the warmth and the softness of the blankets had retained all the heat he needed. He could barely remember what the cold from last night felt like.

Wondering where Halt had gone to, Will turned, vaguely recalling that Halt had sat down behind him with Pauline.

Bundled together under the same blanket, Halt was snoring softly with his head resting on Pauline’s shoulder, who’s cheek was resting on top of the Ranger’s head. Her hair was falling over her face, hilariously careless compared to how he usually saw the head courier.

Their hands were joined on top of the blanket they shared, each holding the other tightly.

Will studied them with a curious eye, his mouth slightly open as he considered them.

Then, he simply smiled, the tiredness finally weighing his eyelids down once again. Will settled back into his spot, this time facing Halt and Pauline, and he dozed off once again, his body relaxing and releasing all of the tension he’d fallen asleep with.

He was safe, the back of his mind recognized. He was safe, he was home, and Halt hadn’t been lying—he wasn’t in Skandia anymore.


	3. dark dreams and fading fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to VallirenWrites for helping with the title and this idea :D

Will stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, unable to fall back to sleep. He was counting the pieces of wood that made up the ceiling, hoping the numbers would eventually lull him back to sleep and that he would forget all about what had caused him to wake up in the first place.

It had been a nightmare. After Skandia, Will was used to them, used to dealing with the aftermath of calming himself down and getting himself back to bed without waking Halt. At first, it had been routine for him to wake Halt when this happened—they would talk for a bit in the main room before Will would start to doze off again, and Halt would help him back to his room where he would fall asleep for the rest of the night. When he got older, Will took it upon himself to leave Halt out of his problems, letting his mentor get a full night of sleep even when Will couldn’t.

But tonight hadn’t been one of his usual nightmares.

Tonight, Horace had died.

Will closed his eyes tightly, seeing if it was possible to force himself back to sleep. Obviously not, but it was worth a shot.

Earlier in the day, Will had gotten a letter from his old friend, explaining that he had been asked by Crowley for assistance with some nearby bandits, and that he was wondering if this meant he was an honorary Ranger. He knew Horace had sent it as a joke, referencing his title as the ‘Oakleaf Knight’ and how Halt had made it up on the spot. Will knew all of this.

But that didn’t mean that his mind didn’t immediately go to the worst outcome possible: that something would go wrong and that Horace and Crowley would be killed.

His nightmare hadn’t exactly spelled that fear out, but it also wasn’t that subtle. He and Horace had been sitting on the cabin’s veranda, drinking coffee like they had thousands of time. The sun was shining, bathing them in warm light that made Will’s eyelids heavy. Halt was somewhere in the cabin, two other voices filtering out along with his; Crowley and Pauline were visiting. He didn’t know why his mind added that small detail in, but it did. He had laughed at something Horace had said, closing his eyes. He could feel Horace’s hand squeeze his hand—they were holding hands—the touch electric and traveling through his body. He didn’t know what that meant, not in that moment.

When he opened his eyes from laughing, though, the scene had changed. The sun was no longer shining on their spot, clouds suddenly covering it, and the voices inside had quieted—or, no, they hadn’t completely quieted. He could hear sobbing, someone crying. And when he looked at Horace, he could only see the thin red band going across his friend’s neck, blood slowly starting to drip down to his collarbone.

“What’s wrong, Will?” Horace had said, eyes dark and blank. The young knight had smiled, but it wasn’t Horace’s smile. It was something else. Horace reached out to touch him again, this time fingers bent into the shape of a claw, lunging for his face—

And that was when Will jerked awake, gasping for breath. His hands shot to his face, searching, convinced that there would be scratches going down his cheeks.

But there was nothing.

Suddenly, Will needed out of his bed. He swung his legs over the side and stood, feet momentarily shocked at the coldness of the floor. It was autumn, that was to be expected. Winter was coming, so it wasn’t entirely surprising that Will’s nightmares were starting up again, but it was still odd that they hadn’t been about Skandia this one time.

Will exited his room, wanting fresh air. He hesitated sitting in the main room, looking around at the dark area. He remembered the sobbing coming from in here. He didn’t know what had happened inside, but the knowledge that Crowley was going with Horace for this mission, and this mission is what sparked the nightmare, told Will that something had happened to Crowley.

He walked through the room, heading for the front door. But the moment he opened it and stepped onto the porch, he saw the two chairs he and Horace had been sitting in.

He kept walking.

Will walked down the steps and into the clearing surrounding the cabin. It was chilly, but not freezing, just enough to give him goosebumps but not enough to throw him into a worse panic. He stopped in the center of the clearing, looking up into the sky.

Kneeling, Will let himself fall backwards, looking up into the night sky as the grass tickled his ears and the back of his neck. He stared up at the stars, wondering why this nightmare was different.

He considered waking Halt.

It had been years since he last woke Halt for something like this, though, and he felt embarrassed of even thinking of waking his mentor.

Turns out, though, that Halt was already awake, already sensing that something was wrong.

About five minutes after Will had gotten up, he heard the front door creak open, the unoiled hinges notifying Will that he hadn’t been as subtle as he had thought. He also knew that Halt knew how to avoid the hinges creaking, so his mentor was doing it in order to notify him that he was coming.

“Will?” Halt’s voice came, closer then Will had expected. He looked up, letting his head tip back further so he could see the cabin upside-down behind him, with Halt standing only a few feet away, arms crossed as he looked down at his apprentice. “Everything alright?” Halt’s voice was tired yet concerned, the gruffness still evident but not as strong, as if he didn’t have the energy to throw up that facade.

Will opened his mouth to say “Yes,” but for some reason the sound never made it out of his lips. He didn’t want to worry Halt, but at the same time, it was nearly impossible to lie to him. So, he opted for the truth.

“I … don’t know,” he said, voice scratchy.

He looked away from Halt, letting his eyes go back to studying the night sky. He hoped Halt would simply go back inside, let him figure things out on his own, but instead, the older Ranger sighed and bent down to sit beside him on the grass.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Halt said softly. Will could feel him watching him, but for some reason couldn’t find it in himself to look back at Halt. This was always how Halt had started talking to him when he was younger, unable to fall back asleep from nightmares. It was how Halt had allowed Will to talk about his nightmares in peace, the invitation there if he wanted it or not. He hadn’t always taken it—had sometimes just asked Halt to talk about something or started asking him questions like usual.

Apparently, Halt was still willing to extend that invitation to him.

Will thought about this metaphorical invitation, what it meant to him and how the unspoken agreement between the two of them had probably saved his life more than once. He considered telling Halt his entire nightmare—from Crowley and Pauline’s presence, to Horace’s electric touch, the sobbing, and the sudden, horrific red band across Horace’s throat.

“This wasn’t like the others,” he said instead, staring up at the stars. He could see one that George had once pointed out to him. The Warrior. Protector of the weak, patron to knights and other warriors. Even though George had pointed it out to him after Alyss had brought up constellations, he had always associated this one with Horace.

“What was it like?” Halt asked, looking up into the night sky alongside him. Will wondered what constellation Halt was looking at—the Lady? The Shadow?

“It …” Will hesitated, unsure how to explain it. “It wasn’t about the past,” Will said instead, not wanting to think in explicit terms what the nightmare had meant.

“The future, then?” Halt was nodding in his spot. His elbows were resting on the tops of his knees, chin resting on his hands which were propped up. He didn’t look at Will. Not yet.

Will said nothing in response to that, knowing that there wasn’t really any other way it could go.

“A good one?” Halt started again, although there was something in his voice that told Will he was just saying it to keep Will talking.

“What do you think?” Will snorted, closing his eyes. The Warrior burned into his eyelids though, a red band across the constellation’s throat—trickling down … down, down, down.

Halt grunted from his spot. Will assumed he was shrugging his shoulders. “It shouldn’t matter what I think,” Halt said. He was silent for a moment, before he continued. “But I don’t think you should pay much mind to dreams about the future, Will. You can make the future whatever you want it to be.” His mentor seemed to pause again for a moment, taking a deep breath. “More often than not,” he said, voice low, “you’re given a lot in life when you’re born. And you’re expected to go along with it. But that doesn’t mean you have to.” He fell silent again.

Not understanding where this was coming from, Will frowned and opened his eyes, looking over to where Halt was still sitting and looking up into the sky. “What?”

Now it was Halt’s turn to snort. He looked down at his apprentice. “I’m saying, Will, that whatever you dreamed doesn’t have to be true. You can change your future whenever you want, with every choice you make.”

Will stared at Halt, the dark throwing his mentor’s face in shadow. He could barely just make it out, only thanks to the sinking moon in the sky. Will sat up. He had a feeling that Halt was referring to something specific, but whatever it was, Will wasn’t aware of it. But obviously Halt wasn’t understanding exactly what Will had experienced. So, in the simplest terms possible, he told him. “I saw Horace dead,” he whispered, looking at his feet. “I don’t think there’s much there that I can change.”

“Ah,” Halt said. Will looked up at him. Their knees, perpendicular to each other, were nearly touching. “Well, I guess you’re right about that,” he said, shaking his head. “But Horace is smart,” he added, finger pulling at his beard. “And he’s with Crowley. I’m sure they’ll keep each other safe until they return.”

Will had forgotten that he’d shown the letter to Halt. Halt hadn’t had much reaction to it, only nodded and made a small comment about those two getting along before going back to reading something he’d gotten from Pauline.

“But what if—” Will started, his mind going back to the nightmare. What if it was the world telling him that something had happened. What if he wouldn’t see Horace ever again, what if—

“Asking ‘what if’ isn’t going to help the situation,” Halt said gently, reaching out to put a comforting hand on Will’s knee. He squeezed it slightly, making sure Will felt it. “Asking ‘what if this’ and ‘what if that’ will only make it worse,” he murmured. “Maybe there’s not much we can do right now, Will, but knowing Crowley’s stubbornness and Horace’s annoyingly optimistic self, they’ll be fine.”

Will knew that Halt was right. Knew that his mentor knew Crowley the best and that he wasn’t wrong about Horace. Most likely, they’d both be fine. They’d return to Castle Araluen like nothing happened, victorious in their mission, and Will and Horace would continue their relationship—friendship?—as they had been.

“Will, answer me this,” Halt suddenly said, his voice slightly louder then it had been before. “Is Horace a good person?”

The answer was immediate. “Yes,” he said, absently picking the grass at his side. Maybe earlier in his life, when they were still in the ward, he would have answered differently. But so much had happened between them since that there was really no way he could answer otherwise. Good people made bad mistakes, and Horace wasn’t an exception to that.

“Is he stupid?” Halt continued, picking some grass himself and throwing it at Will.

“No,” Will answered, frowning and looking up at his mentor like he was losing it. Absently, he brushed the grass off his clothing, smelling the earthy scent as he did so.

“Do you think a random bandit could best him in a fight?”

“No,” that answer was also immediate—he had seen Horace fight so many times, could see him doing it right now—and he knew in his heart that it would take something extreme to take Horace out.

“And when you two have fought together,” Halt said, eyes boring into him, “you’ve had his back, no?”

“Of course,” Will said, shaking his head. “He’s my friend, Halt, I wouldn’t let something happen to him—”

“And neither would Crowley.” Halt kept staring at him. “Maybe they don’t know each other as well, and maybe they’re nearly strangers, but I also know that Crowley wouldn’t have taken Horace along with him if he didn’t intend to protect him like one of his own. He knows you two are close, knows that I care for him as well, and that whether he knows Horace well or not, that he is important to us.”

Will feel silent, staring at Halt. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought that this was the first time Halt had admitted to caring for Horace.

Before Will could point this out, Halt picked up some more grass and weeds and threw it at Will, this time directly into his face. The grass tickled his face, but fell down into his lap and onto his shoulders. “They’ll be fine,” Halt finally said, leaning forward and placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. He brushed grass off him with his other hand. “And if they’re not,” Halt finished, “they’ll have to answer to us.”


	4. silver silence and heavy hearts

Will looked down at the silver pendent that sat in his palm, unsure of what to do with it. He looked up, seeing Halt and Crowley and Horace and Gilan and everyone else looking at him expectantly, wide grins on their faces. He knew what they were waiting for—knew what they all wanted to see. So he did it.

He slipped the chain over his head, the bitter cold metal feeling foreign against his skin. His bronze had been warm when he’d taken it off, the metal tarnished from it’s years of never being taken from his neck. But now he was replacing it … as if he deserved to.

Swallowing his anxiety, Will looked up, smiling the widest smile he could muster. He could dimly hear them all laughing and cheering, and he felt Horace’s arm go around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

Will simply went along with it. No one noticed in the sudden celebration as Will slipped the chain back over his head and shoved the pendent into his pocket, the smile fading as quickly as it had come.

Well, no one noticed, except Halt, of course.

Some hours later, well into the night, Halt watched from his spot next to Pauline as Will slipped from beside Horace, who was deep into a conversation with Gilan about something. Crowley was leaning in on the apparent debate, leaving Alyss, Cassandra, and Pauline watching with amusement, while another half of the party went on in another spot. The Skandians were getting loud, but they were some distance from Wensley, and Halt was sure it wasn’t going to be a problem.

Halt nudged Pauline, and his wife looked over at him. “Hmm?” she said, not entirely paying attention. She was fixed on something Alyss had started saying, her protege clinging to Cassandra’s arms.

“I’ll be right back,” he said simply, “I need to talk to Will.”

She nodded, turning back to Alyss and Cassandra.

He stood from the fire, watching as Will slipped from shadow to shadow until he made it up the porch and into the cabin. His apprentice—now, former apprentice—moved stealthily, as if he didn’t want to be seen. But he’d also seen Will move, and seen him do it better … no, Will was just retreating back to the cabin, not trying to hide purposefully. It was just instinct at this point, the way he moved in the shadows to not be seen.

Halt followed him, consciously trying to not stay hidden as he approached the small cabin. As he made his way up the porch steps, Halt thought about how Will would be moving out soon—he would get his own fief, leaving Halt alone in the Redmont cabin once again. After having Will in the cabin for so long, giving it a life he wouldn’t be able to replicate with flowers or other decorations, Halt was unsure he’d be able to go back to it. Likely, he’d move into Pauline’s apartment and use the cabin for storage.

Pushing the door in, Halt let the hinges creak, knowing that Will would notice one way or another. When the door opened fully, Halt saw what he should have expected—Will standing in the center of the main room, staring down at a small, silver pendent resting in his palm.

Will spun at the door opening, slipping his hand into his pocket the moment Halt’s head peaked around the edge of the door.

Their eyes met, Will’s wide in the moonlight filtering in through the open windows.

“Halt,” Will said, awkwardly putting his other hand into his other pocket so it didn’t look unnatural.

The older Ranger studied his former apprentice, looking him up and down in the dim lighting. “Will,” he said in response, stepping into the room and letting the door stay cracked open behind him. He hesitated saying the next thing, but forced it from his lips, needing to know the answer. “Why haven’t you been wearing your oakleaf?”

Will’s face fell. He had apparently hoped that Halt had missed him putting it away, or had hoped his former mentor hadn’t realized he wasn’t wearing it. “Oh—” he started, eyes flicking around Halt but never looking again at him. “I—I just—”

Halt leaned up against the back of the couch, studying the one he’d willingly call son. And then he waited.

The two of them stood together for a few, silent minutes. Just barely, Halt could hear laughter coming from the fire and table that had been brought outside, could hear the loud guffaws of the Skandians and whoever they’d captured—the yells of surprise sounded like Horace.

“I just …” Will suddenly said, his voice quiet. Halt turned to see him staring wistfully out the window near the kitchenette, watching the scene that Halt could only hear. “I just feel like I don’t … like I haven’t earned it yet.”

Halt frowned, understanding the words but not understanding how they were coming from Will of all people. “I don’t—” Halt said, confused, “I don’t get what you mean. Why do you think you haven’t earned it yet?”

Will shrugged, then crossed his arms in front of his chest, hunching over himself as if he were uncomfortable. But Halt didn’t think it had anything to do with him. He studied Will, looking over him with an eye of concern. The young man was still darkly tanned from their time in Arrida, and there were dark freckles lining his cheeks and nose. The mop of brown, curly hair that he normally kept around ear length had gotten to longer during their time in Arrida and he hadn’t bothered to trim it yet.

“Will …” Halt started, wanting to reach out to Will. He realized, though, that Will probably didn’t want to be touched right now. Not with how hunched over he was, or with how his eyes were moving.

“It’s just—” Will started, lips pursed and his eyes still refusing to look at Halt directly. Instead, they were flicking over different spots in the cabin, landing on the couch, the fireplace, looking out the window, and desperately back into the darkness of his small room. “I’ve messed up so much, Halt,” he said finally, voice strained. “That stupid bridge down in Celtica and getting taken and sold into slavery,” he covered half of his face with a hand, closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head. “It’s been years since that happened, Halt, and I’m still thinking about everything I could have done differently so that we didn’t get captured, or at least Cassandra didn’t get captured along with me. What kind of Ranger lets that kind of thing happen?”

As his old apprentice spoke, it started to make sense to Halt. Why Will was acting the way he was. Halt didn’t want to interrupt Will, though, instead letting him talk and get out everything he’d been holding back for those years.

“And—and how many times have I fucked up in the field between then and now, Halt?” Will threw both his hands up into the air and stepped away from Halt, starting to pace in the small cabin. “I’ve been caught by bandits, assumed someone was the culprit when they were innocent, disobeyed your word and gotten hurt because of it.” He was ticking off different things on his fingers, telling Halt that Will hadn’t been exaggerating—he had been diligently keeping track. “I mean, even just now, in Arrida,” Will continued, voice cracking. Halt could just barely make out in the dark tears forming at the corner of Will’s eyes. “I was so stupid that I didn’t think using the northseeker in ironstone hills would affect it at all, and I only lived by chance because of that.” Will paused in front of the window, watching the small party continue on without him. “And even—even after that,” Will said, his voice falling to a whisper. “I couldn’t help Aloom. He barely knew me, and he gave his life for me. And I let him die.”

Will fell silent after that, the tears finally making tracks down his face.

“I just—” Will started, bringing up a hand to run through his hair.

“Will,” Halt cut in, stepping forward towards him. “Shut up.”

His jaw shut, teeth clacking together. He looked over at Halt, eyes wide once again as he looked at his mentor. Halt wanted to laugh at Will’s reaction, knowing that it was a leftover from their time together as mentor and apprentice. It was weird not thinking of them in those terms, but it also gave Halt a certain amount of pride.

And hearing Will talk so honestly about thinking that he didn’t deserve the silver like he or Gilan or Crowley—it hurt.

He held out his hand to Will, palm up. “Give me the oakleaf,” he said.

Will looked at him, eyebrows furrowing. He seemed reluctant, but he did so—he pulled the chain and pendant out of his pocket and handed it over to Halt.

Halt looked down at the necklace, studying the make of the piece as if he hadn’t seen something like it nearly every moment of his life for the past few decades. As if he didn’t know, in the back of his mind, the work that went into making one of these, let alone earn one of them. Halt had watched the jeweler as they cut the metal for this piece, etching the oakleaf veins and leaf details into it and creating the loop for the chain to go through.

He sighed, rubbing the piece with his thumb.

Will watched as Halt looked at the necklace, sure that he would take it away. Maybe Halt had simply forgotten all of those things when discussing with Crowley his graduation. Maybe, now that he had reminded Halt of them, he had changed his mind. Maybe he decided Will wasn’t fit to graduate yet.

Maybe he thought Will shouldn’t graduate at all.

“I remember when I decided I wanted you as an apprentice,” Halt murmured suddenly, still looking down at the silver oakleaf, “when I was watching you climb that blasted tree outside Arald’s office. Not the time you were going up for that letter I left—no, this was years before.” Halt kept talking, not letting Will get a word in edgewise. “You had escaped the ward dormitory, probably after a scuffled with Horace, now that I’m thinking about it. You had no training, no cloak, but you still managed to stick to the shadows and evade the gazes of three separate guardsmen. And then you made your way up that tree, sitting right outside Arald’s office while he worked in there, and he didn’t notice.” Halt sighed, tipping his head thoughtfully. “You were probably only seven or eight.”

Will stared at Halt. “Halt,” he murmured back, “is this going somewhere?”

Halt snorted. “For a Ranger, you sure are impatient.”

Will’s cheeks flushed, not saying anything. Seeing that Will wasn’t going to say anything else, Halt continued. “I kept watching your behavior to make sure you were Ranger material after that, sure, but it was that first moment that caught my attention.” Halt absently pulled at his beard at he spoke. “But what really sealed it was when you came through the window for that letter I left. And you submitted to whatever punishment Arald and I decided on.”

Now, Will broke in again. “Halt, just because I fit what you were looking when I was younger doesn’t mean that I—that I should be a Ranger. That I should be allowed this responsibility, when I can’t even—”

“Half the things you went through during your apprenticeship, Will, a full-grown Ranger wouldn’t have been able to deal with,” Halt snapped, cutting his apprentice—former, damn it—off again. He finally looked back up to Will, a characteristic frown that dug deeper into Will’s heart then usual. “I’m sure that half the Rangers we currently have would have no idea what to do if they came upon that damned bridge. Or if they got captured and sold into slavery. Or if they got separated from their group, lost in a place they’ve never been before. Or if they found out the rest of their group got captured and was about to be executed.” Halt spun the chain on his finger, watching the piece twirl in the fading light. “Of anyone in the Corps right now, Will, you deserve it more then a good portion of them.”

Now, he looked at his apprentice. Really looked at him. He could see a scar on his face from a scuffle with some bandits, and the rolled up sleeves showed more then his fair share of scars. And Halt knew that there were more below the shirt—from the slavery, from Arrida, from all of the small skirmishes he got into as an apprentice.

“Halt—” Will whispered, his voice cracking again. “That’s not—”

“It’s true,” Halt said, looking back down at the silver piece. “I know you spoke to Gilan before, about not feeling ready, Will. And I’m probably going to repeat a few things he said, but …” Halt took a deep breath. “Everyone makes mistakes. I’ve made so many of them, Will, mistakes that probably would have saved people if I’d done different. In our line of work, that’s bound to happen at some point, more then once.” Halt was once again rubbing his thumb on the silver oakleaf, as if remembering someone he’d lost. Was he thinking of someone specific, when he said that? Will couldn’t think of anyone specific, but he also knew Halt’s time as a Ranger was fairly complex, and he didn’t know everything about his mentor. “What’s important is that you take the mistakes you’ve made, and you don’t make them twice.”

Now, he looked back up, motioning to Will with the oakleaf. Confused for a moment, Will frowned, unsure. He didn’t move, though, when Halt stepped forward, taking the chain in two hands and slipping it back over his former apprentice’s head. It rested at his chest, catching the moonlight in the darkness of the cabin.

“You’ve done so well, Will,” Halt whispered, a hand on either of Will’s shoulders. He squeezed them slightly. “You’ve done so much better then I or anyone else ever came close to believing was possible. Everyone outside is there because they feel the same way.” Halt let his hands slip from Will’s shoulders, stepping back and studying his apprentice.

The silver gleamed at his chest, looking as if it belonged there. “You deserve that oakleaf more then enough,” Halt finished. “And I need you to know that. You are enough, Will. And don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”


	5. quiet confessions and loud love

“Do you want him to know?” Horace whispered, staring at him. They were both laying on their sides in the bed, facing one another. They had started talking, and then all of a sudden Will had brought up something that Horace hadn’t expected him to—He wanted to tell Halt about them.

About their relationship.

Will’s cheeks flushed pink, and he didn’t meet Horace’s eyes. He knew Horace was only asking so that he knew he was sure; it wouldn’t be good to force this before the time was ready. But even at the beginning, it hadn’t felt right to hide his relationship with Horace from Halt. Halt was basically his father, and even though he rarely came over the cabin, he was sure that he had noticed Horace’s spare clothing in Will’s closet. Halt wasn’t a snoop into Will’s private life, and he didn’t ask about it—but it was unspoken between them, even if both of them knew it was a thing.

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “Well, yeah,” Will responded, moving one of his feet forward to kick at Horace’s. He watched his own foot get tangled in the blankets, but didn’t try to fight it.

Horace moved slightly. “Well … why haven’t you?”

Will looked over to Horace. “I—I don’t know how he’d react,” he said simply. It felt weird saying that, as if Halt would get mad—but sleeping with another man wasn’t exactly mainstream, and not everyone was okay with it.

And Will didn’t know where Halt stood.

“…do you think he’d react … badly?” Horace murmured. He brought a hand up, ran it through Will’s hair and brushed it out of his face by hooking it behind his ear. Will thought for a moment, staring at a freckle on Horace’s cheek.

“I don’t know,” he responded, hating it. He wanted to believe that Halt wouldn’t care, that Halt would just see it as a relationship and have no problem with it. But Will just straight up didn’t know Halt in that way, didn’t know how he would react. You could know someone for years and still have them surprise you with their reactions to something like this—and Will didn’t want to lose Halt.

But he also didn’t want to hide something this big from him.

“I don’t know,” he repeated, closing his eyes again.

* * *

Halt leaned back into the chair on the porch, the steaming mug of coffee sitting on the arm rest as he got settled. Will smiled at that, seeing his mentor sniff the aromatic beverage he had just handed over to him. Will had another in his grip, which he moved to set on his own chair’s armrest before sitting down.

They had just gotten back from dealing with some highwaymen, and as the sun set, Will had invited Halt to stay for dinner. Now, they were just waiting for it to finish cooking and sitting out on the porch seemed like a good idea to wait for the meal to finish.

Will watched as Halt took a sip of his coffee, smacking his lips and sighing in appreciation. Will, for his part, didn’t know if he could stomach drinking the hot coffee. He was going to talk to Halt.

He was going to talk to Halt about Horace.

The younger Ranger took a few deep breaths, keeping them quiet so Halt didn’t turn and stare at him. But of course he couldn’t hide everything from Halt.

“All right,” he said, his Hibernian accent coming through. As he got older, Halt’s accent had faded and he had stopped hiding it as much as he had before. Now, it was just a slight lilt in his voice, just enough for those who knew to notice. “Get on with it,” his mentor turned and looked at him, his eyebrow raised as if appraising him.

Will bit hard on the inside of his lip and gripped the mug of coffee, not saying anything right away. Of course Halt would see right through him.

“Get on with—” Will tried to say, trying to last minute bluff his way out of having this conversation.

But of course Halt wouldn’t let him have that. “Will, I’m not completely oblivious,” he said, kicking his feet on top of the railing. “You were acting weird when I got here this morning, and have been acting weird ever since we got back. Then, you ask me to stay for dinner.” Halt studied him, nodding his head slowly. “Maybe I don’t know what you want to talk about, but it’s obviously important if you’re this worked up over it.”

Will should have seen this coming. Of course Halt would see right through him, would notice a small difference in his behavior like that. It made him question how Halt hadn’t brought up Will acting weird before, especially around Horace. Although, he guessed, they hadn’t really changed their behavior around one another. They just changed how they saw it.

“Oh,” Will murmured, not knowing what else to say. He looked down at his coffee, watching the steam rise. Silence fell between them, Halt watching Will with a patient look, and Will looking literally anywhere else.

They were both silent for a while and they could dimly hear the meat sizzling on the fire inside. The sun slowly got lower and lower on the horizon, and Will looked at the colors in the sky for a moment. Earlier, he’d seen the color of Horace’s eyes the night they talked about this. It was like his boyfriend was looking out for him, even if he was currently off in Araluen with Cassandra. Will took a deep breath, remembering Horace’s last words before he left.

“Will, I think you’re looking to deep into this,” Horace had murmured in the early morning, running a hand over his head to flatten his bed head. “Halt loves you. He may not say it a lot, but it’s obvious to others.” Will didn’t say anything to that, instead just accepting the kiss and stepping out onto the porch with him. “I really don’t think you should worry too much.”

Staring at the wooden flooring of the deck, Will hesitated for a moment. Then, voice cracking, he said “…but what if he …”

Horace reached out, setting a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will,” Horace said gently, “Think about the Halt you know,” he said, setting another gentle kiss on the top of Will’s head. “He wouldn’t do that to you.” Will still refused to look at Horace, but he took a deep breath and nodded. Horace smiled, then took a step down off the porch. Then, he seemed to think of something else. “I know I’ll be in Araluen, Will, but I’ll still be here if you need me. You know you can come to Araluen if you need to. My place is always open, and you know that Alyss and Cassie are happy for us.”

Back in the present, Will finally looked up to Halt. He knew Horace was right, knew that he was talking sense, and that it was highly unlikely that Halt would hate him after this.

But the possibility still hung directly over Will’s head, even as he took a deep breath to start talking.

“Halt …” Will tried to start, his throat dry. He forced himself to take a sip of the coffee, tasting the honey lubricating his throat as it went down. Halt didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for Will to get his wits about him. “I …” He met eyes with Halt. Through the years, he’d gotten better at reading him. At first, Halt had been one big mystery to Will, impossible to figure out or predict. But now that Will was graduated, working independently and with Halt on the Task Force … his mentor was almost like an open book to him. Or maybe, an open book at a distance. A little hard to make out, but obvious once seen.

“I’ve just … been meaning to tell you something,” he finally choked out. His other hand gripped the arm rest and he hoped Halt couldn’t see his white knuckles.

The grizzled Ranger nodded. “I figured,” he said, letting the ghost of a smile touch his lips. Obviously, he was adding in the jokes to ease Will’s nerves. There was care in his eyes, Will could see, but also curiosity and concern.

Will tried to smile at that, but it faltered. He took another breath. “It’s just.” He swallowed. “It’s been … going on for a while, I guess. And I—you’re essentially my—my father, Halt, and I—” Will turned, watching the clearing in front of them. “It just doesn’t feel right to keep this from you anymore.”

Halt nodded again, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re not obligated to tell me anything, Will,” he said gently, “but I see you as my son as well, so if there’s something you want to tell me …” he seemed to hesitate. “If there’s something you want to tell me, Will, I want you to be comfortable enough to say whatever it is you have to say.”

Just barely, Will could make out some birds singing at each other. The meat was still sizzling inside—it was probably almost finished, and if they waited much longer, it would be overcooked.

“Oh,” Will said, considering Halt’s words. He knew that—he knew that Halt saw him as a son, that was why he had stated Halt was his father. But it was still shocking to hear every time. Will waited a moment, once again staring at the wooden floor of the porch. He looked at his boots, muddy from their time in the field earlier today, and in need of a good cleaning.

“I—I don’t know how to say it,” Will finally said, voice barely audible.

Across from him, Halt frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Will, I’m not as young as you anymore,” he said, “speak up.”

“I don’t know how to say it,” Will said louder, voice cracking. He raised his eyebrows as if it was funny. He chuckled slightly, covering half his face with one hand. “I got so worked up to talk to you about this,” he continued, tears pricking the corner of his eyes even as he continued to laugh. “But I don’t even know how to say it. I don’t even know what to say to get this across to you.”

Halt frowned at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Well, I’m not sure what you have to say, Will,” he replied, “but maybe just say it in the way you know how to. If you’re comfortable with me asking questions, then I’m sure we can figure this out.”

Will fell silent, looking at him. He quickly brushed away the loose tears, sniffling as he did so. He hated that he had let this happen to himself—he was sure he looked like a mess to Halt. Like a child, probably.

“I—Horace and I are in a relationship. Together.”

The clearing was silent around them, Halt staring at Will with a incomprehensible look that Will didn’t recognize. This is the part where he gets up and leaves. The part where he tells me that he doesn’t want anything to do with me.

“Well, obviously,” Halt said, “You two have been best friends for a while. Will, this isn’t exactly news … you realize that right?”

That made Will freeze. Then, “No, Halt, like—Horace and I are—we’re friends, yes, but there’s something else—”

“Something else?” Halt said.

“I—we’re—it’s a romantic—a romantic relationship, Halt,” Will forced out, not quite understanding how Halt wasn’t understanding.

Halt fell silent, staring at him. “Romantic?”

Will bit down hard on his lip, leaning forward slightly. “Yes. Romantic.”

His mentor seemed to consider it for a while, before simply nodding. “Okay,” he said. “You two are good for each other. I’m happy for you.”

Now it was Will’s turn to be confused. “What?” He had been expecting more questions, if not a demand for an explanation and possibly some yelling. But what he got was so much more confusing to the younger Ranger.

“What?” Halt shot back, “What else did you expect me to say? We wouldn’t exactly be having this conversation if it was you and Alyss, now would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Will said, leaning back in his seat in scoffing. He was so goddamn confused in that moment, but didn’t know how to react. “That’s—that’s why I—”

“That’s why you felt obligated to tell me,” Halt finished for him, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. Anyone else looking at the older Ranger would have seen nothing, but all Will saw in him was care and concern. “You felt obligated because not everyone is keen on two men being together like that,” he said, “and sometimes people consider that lying if you don’t talk about it,” Halt shrugged, finished off his coffee and then turned in his chair so that he and Will were looking at each other face to face. Halt put a hand on Will’s knee, squeezing it slightly. “But you should know by now that I’m not ‘everyone,’ Will. I mean, look at me. My best friend never wants to be in a relationship like what you’ve just described, but is still in a ‘relationship’ with Pauline and I.” Halt laughed slightly, shaking his head. “If anything, Will, you shouldn’t worry about this type of thing with the Corps, or the rest of your family,” he said gently. “The people who make a big deal out of stuff like this don’t matter, and if anyone does say anything about it, they can answer to me.”

Will stared at Halt, beyond shocked and not knowing how to process what Halt had just said. From what he had heard … Will studied Halt’s face, looking to see if there was any sign that his mentor was messing with him. It just didn’t seem possible, didn’t seem plausible that what he had just said was … was true. Was at all likely.

“You—you—” Will fumbled with his words, not sure what to say.

Halt leaned forward, putting his hand on Will’s cheek and gently moving his head so that he had to look at Halt. “You’re my son, Will,” he said, “and nothing is going to change that. The only thing that changes is how I get to harass you and Horace during missions now.”

Still not sure what to do, Will continued staring at Halt. Halt shook him a little bit. “Do you understand, Will?” he asked, “Nothing’s going to change between us. Nothing.”

Will could feel his entire body relax, relief flooding through his chest and limbs. He slowly let a smile form on his face, even as the tears he’d been holding back earlier came flooding back, escaping the corners of his eyes and trailing down his face. He let his smile widen, before slowly leaning forward in Halt’s grip and letting his forehead rest on his father’s shoulder.

“I love you, Halt,” Will mumbled into his clothing, holding onto him tightly.

Halt wrapped his arms around Will and pulled him into a tight hug. “I love you too, Will.”

They held each other for some time, before the smell of something burning filtered out of the cabin and to their noses. “We should probably get that,” Halt muttered, still holding Will.

Will scoffed, closing his eyes. Halt didn’t move, though, so neither did Will. “We can just go to Jenny’s,” he mumbled. “I think I’m too tired to try and make another meal.”

“Fair enough,” Halt said. But neither of them moved yet. They stayed there, holding one another, as the sun set and casted the two of them into darkness.


	6. vicious ventures and tough talks

“You should’ve been more careful,” Will muttered, pulling Halt’s arm over his shoulders and helping his mentor stand. The forest moved around them, but it was silent compared to the loud yells that had scattered all the wild animals just moments before. “Didn’t you see—”

“Of course I saw him, Will,” Halt snapped back, stumbling for a moment and leaning heavily into Will’s side. Having taken hundreds of wounds in his Ranger career, he was sure he would be fine from this one. But even as he thought that, his head swam and he swayed in place. Even if he was used to getting injured, the wounds still hurt. He had lost a lot of blood, thinking back to the mess of the scene. “But just because I saw him—”

“If you saw him, why did you move forward?” Will walked slowly towards where their horses rested, allowing Halt time to get his feet steady. Halt’s shoulder was throbbing, probably from where the knife had hit him. His hand wasn’t doing much better, but that was from Will squeezing his hand so tightly he had lost feeling in it. Of course, when he had gotten hit with the flying dagger, Will had been there right away, able to provide Halt the care he needed. But Will’s constant worrying over Halt was starting to get a little annoying.

“Really, Will,” Halt grumbled, “is now the time for this? Let’s just go back to Redmont.”

Will stopped walking suddenly, looking down at Halt with an incredulous look to him. Will had let his hair grow out a little bit, tickling his jaw. He looked so much older than the young apprentice Halt still saw in him. Halt, for his part, had lost all of his black hair only to be replaced with silvery-gray hair. He didn’t feel that old and made sure to let Will know that every time it came into question. But now, right now, Halt just wanted to take a break. His shoulder hurt. He knew Will would never let him hear the end of that, though. “Halt, you—”

“Will,” Halt cut in, looking up at his former apprentice. He’d been right, about Will—he had made a name for himself, larger then Halt had ever been. He was proud of Will. But that didn’t mean that Halt was going to let him boss him around. He was still Will’s senior. “Let’s go.”

Finally, Will let out a heavy breath before continuing on to where the horses were. He was shaking his head, but no longer staring at Halt with frustration. In silence, the two Rangers mounted their horses—Halt with some help—before turning back in the direction of Wensley. “I’ll have to come back and track him once we get you settled,” Will said, nudging Tug to follow alongside Abelard. “He could have information we need.”

Halt nodded but didn’t say anything. He knew why Will wasn’t going right now, but didn’t want to voice it, knowing that Will would just toss it back into his face. The younger Ranger would have turned back and gone on without him if his injury hadn’t been so bad, but Halt had barely managed to stand on his own. Will was prioritizing Halt’s health and safety before following their target, even if that could mean losing the man. Normally, Halt would have been upset about this, but he found that he didn’t want to say anything about Will’s choice.

About an hour later, they made it back to Redmont Castle. Will once again started helping Halt, even though his mentor balked at first. He didn’t want others to see him needing help, as it would ruin the reputation he’d taken the time to craft over the years. But Will wasn’t letting up this time around, and Halt finally gave in, letting Will assist him down from Abelard’s saddle and up into the keep. Pauline was in her and Halt’s shared rooms when they got there and spun at the sudden entrance. They weren’t supposed to be back yet, so returning so early could only mean so many things.

Pauline dropped what she was working on, moving to help Will support Halt and take him into their room. Pauline started peppering Will with questions, asking what happened and if they were both alright or needed the healer before they had even gotten into the room. Halt remained silent, knowing that Pauline would have more to say to him after Will left. Once they got him into the bed, Will told Pauline to call for the castle healer to double-check Halt’s wound.

“That’s not—” Halt started, not wanting another person involved in all of this. Will had already checked his wound and patched it up, so another pair of eyes wasn’t necessary.

“Yes, it is,” Pauline said, with Will literally a heartbeat behind her, saying the exact same thing.

That shut the grizzled Ranger up immediately, closing his mouth quickly. It was one thing for Will to say it—it was another for Pauline to say it along with Will. Out in the field, Will was a worrywart when it came to Halt and his increasing age, but Pauline’s perspective was more informed: she was often talking Will out of worrying too much about Halt or Horace or Alyss. If Pauline was saying it was serious, then it most likely was.

“… fine,” Halt mumbled, laying back down in his bed and closing his eyes. He had wanted rest, and he had gotten it. He should just stop complaining. Will would update him about the bloke that had stabbed him later, he assumed.

“I’ll be back later,” Will said, stepping out of the room with Pauline.

“Mmhmm,” Halt responded, already nodding off in his bed. He and Pauline could talk later.

Pauline shut the door behind them, looking over to Will and shaking her head. “Stay safe,” she murmured, setting a hand on his shoulder before walking past him. She paused at their front door, turning back to look at Will with a suspicious eye. “Have you … spoken to him?” Pauline asked. “This is the ninth time this year, Will, and we’re not even halfway through.”

Will shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. “I plan to after I get back.”

Nodding, Pauline held the door open for Will to pass by her, allowing her to lock the door behind them. They walked out of the keep together, Pauline heading for the healer’s rooms and Will for the gate.

He had a criminal to catch before anything else happened.

* * *

Halt woke to candlelight flickering near his face. He blinked a few times, forcing his eyes to focus in the darkness of the room. The bed was empty beside him, telling him that Pauline was somewhere else. He turned his head, trying to find where the candlelight was coming from. He assumed it was Pauline, or maybe the castle healer, checking on him to make sure he was okay.

But he was wrong on both guesses.

Will sat comfortably in the cushioned seat at the side of the bed, his head tipped back and against the headrest. His legs were crossed, his right ankle over his left knee, and his hands were clasped in his lap. His hair was tied back now, compared to earlier when it had been loose. Halt studied his apprentice in the flickering candlelight, noticing that the candle itself was half-melted already and that Will himself had apparently dozed off.

Taking a deep breath, Halt looked around the rest of the room. There was no one else in there with them, telling him that Pauline had probably gotten caught up with something to do with work. Will had probably just returned and had agreed to sit with Halt until Pauline got back.

“Halt,” Will’s voice was soft in the quiet, bringing Halt’s attention back to the other Ranger. Will was now sitting up, stretching his arms and legs like a cat. Halt noticed his cloak and belt with knives thrown over the back of the chair, along with his bow resting against the wall behind him. Maybe he’d been here longer then he’d thought. “How do you feel?” Will murmured, brushing away loose strands of hair as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Better,” Halt answered shortly, moving to sit up. Will didn’t stop him as he did so, but Halt noticed how his eyes never left Halt as he pushed himself up. When Will didn’t say anything, Halt paused, then said, “Did you find him?”

Will nodded, glancing over his shoulder. “He didn’t make it far, really,” he said, “and he’d apparently thrown his only knife at you, so he surrendered the moment I caught up to him.”

Halt nodded at that, satisfied with how it turned out. He wouldn’t have said it, but he was worried about Will going after the man by himself, especially after taking Halt down and no one else available to go with him. Apparently, though, the man hadn’t been as dangerous as they had expected, save for the fact that he had managed to hit Halt.

The two of them fell silent in the darkness, the candlelight flickering over them and throwing each of their faces into shadow. It was hard not to notice the serious look on Will’s face, though, considering he was usually smiling widely. Instead, Will’s face had a frown that immediately caught Halt’s attention, making him wonder what he was thinking. Instead of pushing it out of him, Halt remained silent, knowing that, eventually, Will would say whatever it was that was bothering him.

They sat there, not looking at each other, as the candle got lower and lower in the dish.

“Halt,” Will said again, this time leaning back in his seat. “I … we need to talk.”

“Oh no,” Halt muttered, shaking his head. He rested his hands in his lap, turning to look at Will. “What is it now?”

Will hesitated answering, now looking down at his own hands clasped in his lap. He sighed heavily, looking back up. “I just—I think you should consider retiring, Halt.”

Halt frowned, staring at Will. Instead of responding, he just let his gaze do the work, boring into Will like a drill. He could see his former apprentice squirm under his gaze, but, surprisingly, Will stood firm. He was determined.

“No, Halt,” he said suddenly, “You’re not going to bully me into avoiding this conversation,” he said, the frustration and incredulity from earlier appearing on his face. He raised his hands up to his head in frustration, fingers raking through his hair. “Maybe you’re my mentor, maybe you’re my senior, and maybe you’re my father, Halt, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have serious conversations about how this job is affecting your health.”

For a moment, Halt was taken aback. His health? How being a Ranger was affecting his health? “Will,” he stared, not believing what he was hearing. Maybe he was getting older, but he was in perfect health, thank you very much. “You don’t know—”

“Don’t say that I don’t know what I’m talking about, Halt,” Will cut in, his voice slightly rising. “You’re not the one who has to give first aid to you after every mission we’ve had for the past year! You’re not the one who has to deal with the consequences, Halt, especially since you won’t recognize them yourself!”

Now, Halt was getting annoyed. “It was not every mission, Will,” he snapped back, crossing his arms. “I’ll admit that I’ve gotten injured a few times, but don’t exaggerate and bluff to get your point across.” Halt shook his head vehemently, not believing that this was coming out of his apprentice. His student. “I thought I taught you better than that—”

“You DID,” Will cried out, “You did teach me better than that. You taught me to recognize the facts of a situation and come to a conclusion that makes logical sense.” Will poked Halt hard in his non-injured shoulder, but even then Halt felt the pain flare. He grunted, throwing a hand up to cover the spot Will had touched. Before he could say anything, though, Will was continuing. “You taught me to recognize that conclusion and act on it. I thought you would have noticed this as well.” Will crossed his arms, nostrils flaring as he stared down his mentor.

Halt opened his mouth, ready to throw something back at Will, when suddenly Will was going off again.

“And no, I wasn’t exaggerating, Halt,” he continued, standing from his chair and starting to pace. “You have gotten hurt during our last missions. Maybe not all of them were serious, but they were bad enough that they put you out of commission for a while. Pauline’s talked to me about this multiple times, Halt, and if I’d sent injury reports to Crowley like I should have, instead of following your instructions, Crowley would be saying the same thing.”

That shut him up. He’d specifically asked Will not to send anything to Crowley for that express purpose. He had known his dear friend would say something at the frequent injury reports, and would take him out of active duty with or without Halt’s permission. That, in and of itself, gave away the fact that Will might have a point. And if Pauline had said something to Will …

But he wasn’t going to give in that easily. “Will, just because I’ve gotten hurt a few times recently doesn’t mean I need to retire,” he said back, hoping that pushing calmness into his voice would soothe the other Ranger down. But it seemed to just make Will more upset.

“Maybe it does, and maybe it doesn’t,” Will shot back, “but the fact remains Halt—you’re not immortal, you’ve gotten hurt more in this year than my entire apprenticeship, and you’re trying to hide it from the one person who can actually do something about it right away—Crowley.” Will moved back towards Halt, leaning in towards his mentor. There was anger in his eyes, but also … fear. Fear and sadness and worry. “I want you to actually … I don’t know, Halt, I want you to grow old and be able to spend actual time with Pauline rather than leaving constantly for missions. I want you to survive to see Cassandra’s baby be born, and—and I don’t know, maybe let me get an apprentice and share that experience with you.” Will sat back down heavily in the chair, refusing to look back up to Halt. He looked at his hands. “I want you to grow old and have a life more than being a Ranger and pass away peacefully in your sleep rather than a sword to the throat or some other violent way.”

Silence fell between them, Will finally falling silent in the dark room. The candlelight was sputtering now, the wick burned down all the way to the pool of hot wax. It would burn out soon.

“Will …” Halt tried to say, his voice barely more then a whisper.

“Look, Halt,” Will interrupted again. His voice sounded so … defeated … now. “I get not wanting to admit that you can’t do something like this anymore, especially when you’ve done it for the majority of your life. But—”

“I get your point, Will,” Halt said softly. He reached out from his spot, resting one hand over one of Will’s. Absently, Will took it and Halt squeezed his hand. He remembered the force in Will’s grip when he’d been helping Halt earlier in the day. Now that he thought about it, Will had probably been worried about Halt’s … whatever number wound for the year. Obviously, Will had been worried. But putting the wound in the perspective of how many wounds he’d gotten, how many times he’d messed up this year … it made sense.

“I … I don’t know about retirement,” he continued, “but … but how about I send something to Crowley. He and I can talk about … about modifying my role in Ranger duties here, if that’s okay with you.”

It took a moment for his words to pierce Will’s min, but when they did, he looked up—tears at the corners of his eyes. Halt’s heart cracked, and now he felt even worse. Obviously, Will had been bottling this up for a while. “You’re serious?” Will whispered, eyebrows furrowing as if he didn’t believe Halt.

Halt didn’t blame him for not believing him, though. He nodded, knowing that Will would need something solid. “I promise. I’ll write to Crowley tomorrow.”

Will sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and then brushing away his tears. He laughed slightly, shaking his head. “I—I didn’t expect you to give in so easily,” he said, chuckling at himself. “I’m holding you to that, Halt,” Will said, pointing at his mentor.

Snorting, Halt shook his head, pushing Will in his shoulder jokingly. “I mean, you had some good evidence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First 5+1 story is finished! I hope y'all enjoyed this (y'all definitely seemed to :') ), my next part to this series will be coming out ... eventually! I won't SAY what it will be about, but it HAS been hinted at in this story! School starts up again soon, so I don't know how my writing schedule will be affected. Glad to have finished this before things got nuts, though!


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